Chapter 2
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 1
There’s worse things the girl could do than eat him, and Arthur’s not going to think about them too much, because there’s enough things to be scared and worried about right here, right now.
How large is this prison, anyway? Surely, they have to arrive somewhere, preferably outside, soon?
The alarm is still clanging, and there’s still shouting and the stomp of boots around them- and since they pass the slumped forms of two bodies at one intersection, it seems they are still on the trail of the skeleton.
And then the girl… stumbles and falls over. Arthur slews to a stop, a good few yards from her, looks at her being a bundle of red dress and red hair on the floor and isn’t sure what to do. Is… is she dead? Or… is it some kind of trap?
Gregory, of course, doesn’t have any such concerns, because when he hears their footsteps stop, he turns around, looks confused, sees her on the ground and runs back.
“What happened?”
“She fell over,” Arthur answers because- because it’s what happened and how would he know?! He shrugs as much to Gregory’s questioning look. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”
Too late. Gregory is already crouching down next to her and reaching out to… Arthur’s not sure what he thinks he’s doing, but he’s putting a hand on her arm and turning her a little so he can look at her face.
“I think she fainted. She’s breathing, anyway.”
Well. “That’s… nice? Can we get out of here now?”
“We can’t just leave her here!”
“Why not?!”
“Something could happen to her!”
Arthur thinks it’s more likely that she happens to someone, but Gregory is already hoisting her up.
“Fine.” What the fuck are they going to do with some… blood-drinking rich girl prisoner? Arthur can think of at least three ways this is going to come back to bite them in the arse ( 1) She wakes up and attacks them, 2) Whoever imprisoned her comes after them, 3) She draws attention to them and gets them arrested) but… he can argue with Gregory when they’re finally out of here.
He sets off again, takes the lead this time- if the girl wakes up, at least he thinks Gregory as he is now probably has a chance. Which is more than Arthur can say for himself.
Ahead, he sees a door and what looks like daylight. Unfortunately, it turns out to lead to a section of the inner courtyard, building and windows and a high wall all around. Beyond the wall, he can hear someone give orders, “Don’t let them escape!” and such.
Their time is running out. Arthur swallows. He’s hoping that man isn’t talking about them as in him and Gregory, but… he said ‘them’, not ‘it’, so… it doesn’t sound like the skeleton he’s talking about. And then the voice beyond the wall adds: “The Royal Defenders of the Crown will be here shortly.”
Crap. Crapcrapcrap. Arthur feels his breath hitch. Prince James and Galahad? Maybe even the First Mage? Surely… surely they wouldn’t call important (and powerful) people like that in just for two kids…? But… but if they know anything, if they know about Arthur, about Gregory… maybe someone knows, or someone saw something… and all the dead guards…
“Come on!!” he hisses to Gregory, runs back inside- the front of the building isn’t that far away, surely there’s got to be some kind of window or something they can get out of. (He’s trying not to think too much about the fact that this is a prison and built for people to not get out of and also, he can’t remember seeing much in the way of windows in the outside walls when they were walking up to it.)
“The Royal Defenders!” Gregory says, but at least runs along with him- and looks excited. “Do you think we’ll get to see them? Maybe we’ll get to see Prince James shoot his guns!”
Arthur gives Gregory a look, but decides not to waste time on pointing out that if they do, Prince James may well be shooting at them.
They reach another corner, another corridor- and there, Arthur hardly dares to believe it, there’s an open door, and what looks very much also like daylight spilling out of it. He slows, runs up to it as quietly as possible, peeks inside.
It’s a simple room, maybe a cell. There’s a big hole in the wall, bricks strewn everywhere, dust sifting through the air and onto another body. The bricks look like they’ve been chewed on by something- corrosion of some sort.
It certainly won’t look good if anyone catches them getting out this way, but… but he’s not going to risk looking for something better, not with the Defenders on the way, so he waves to Gregory, who’s still carrying the unconscious girl (he’s not sure it’s healthy for someone to be unconscious for long, but… he’ll decide if he wants to worry about it later.)
He sticks his head out of the hole to check outside- makes sure not to touch the bricks, because they are blackened and there is an acrid smell in the air. Whatever turned them into Swiss cheese, he doesn’t want to get on himself.
The hole is at the side of the prison, opens into an alley between buildings only yards from the main road. He looks both ways, doesn’t see anyone, and steps outside, looks around again, still doesn’t see anyone, and turns back to warn Gregory about staying clear of the bricks.
Gregory, who was just about to nudge one of the ones on the floor with his foot, looks confused, then shrugs. “If you say so! You’re the smart one, after all, Artie!”
Arthur doesn’t feel at all smart right now. He feels small and shaky and frightened and hunted, and the futility of this outing is scratching at the back of his mind.
But the priority right now is to get finally out of here.
Gregory takes a pointedly big step over the remnants of the bricks, the girl still in his arms- almost manages to let one her limp hands scrape along the bricks when it swings with the motion, but before Arthur can react, they’re through and there was an inch to spare. He doesn’t think Gregory even noticed.
After one last check around, Arthur makes his way to the mouth of the alley. It’s a dead end behind them, otherwise he’d go any way except to the main street. How are they going to get anywhere with Gregory carrying an unconscious girl covered in blood? And that deep, vivid red of her hair isn’t exactly inconspicuous, either.
But before he can decide how he’ll convince Gregory to leave the girl here, he reaches the mouth of the alley, looks out at the street- and freezes.
There’s a reason he didn’t see anyone pass by the alley. It’s because everyone has backed away to stare in morbid fascination at the three figures strolling across the street to a waiting cab.
A man in a voluminous coat and a wide-brimmed hat is just climbing onto the driver’s seat at the back. It isn’t that Arthur hasn’t seen that sort of clothing on cab drivers before- but they don’t usually wear it in the middle of a mild August afternoon. He associates that with sleety December nights.
And the horse, a pretty dark brown one, is trembling, its eyes wild. Arthur feels sorry for it, wonders if something’s wrong with it.
But he’s likely the only one paying attention to the animal, because the last figure walking towards that cab is the skeleton. The blood is starker in the sunlight outside, rusty red and brown, the bones yellower. Arthur can now see that the glint of metal comes from lines of silver set into those bones in arching, swooping symbols. He doesn’t know this magic, but he’s pretty sure that’s what’s animating the thing.
The first figure is a woman who’s almost skipping and smiling brightly, even though her hair is unkempt and she’s wearing the drab, cheap prison clothing. Over her left arm, she’s carrying… it’s not the bundle of clothes Arthur thought at first glance. It’s too voluminous for that. And there’s hair. And… skin. And it’s not a puppet, despite how limp and boneless it hangs and moves.
And he knows that hair colour. And those clothes.
She’s carrying Mr Jernigan over her arm.
And Arthur got him into the prison.
His eyes dart to the skeleton. Then back to the thing over her arm. And… and he doesn’t understand how, but… but his mind jumps to the conclusion and it fits. That thing she’s carrying is wrong. Boneless, he thought. And there’s a skeleton.
That showed up at the prison when he brought Mr Jernigan into it.
That skeleton goes with what she’s carrying over her arm, he’s sure of it.
It walked in there next to him. It talked to him.
And it all makes sense now, or not all of it but lots of it and he knows now why, he knows where the con was.
Because the figure in the middle, walking between the woman and the skeleton, tall and angular, is his father.
His father isn’t in prison anymore.
His father is walking away from prison, breaking out, and Arthur made it happen.
The nausea never went away, but he kind of forgot about it, until now, when it makes itself known again with an acid burn in his stomach and a knot like a fist in his throat. His legs tremble.
And like he can feel Arthur’s gaze, his father turns his head, and looks at him. His black eyes spear Arthur across the distance, fix him to the floor.
He stops, and turns, and motions with two fingers imperiously.
“There you are. Get over here.” The words are a low, cold growl and still carry over the dozen yards between them.
A dozen yards that stretch like infinity and feel like no distance at all.
Arthur can’t move, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering like a rabbit’s.
His father’s eyes narrow impatiently, and he gestures.
The skeleton turns, fixes its glistening eyeballs on him, and takes a step towards him.
And then there is a roar from above. Arthur’s heard it before, but always at a distance, never rushing right towards him.
The horse in front of the cab shies, and the driver yanks hard on the reins, brutal. His father jerks his head around, and the woman looks up.
The skeleton is still walking towards him, and Gregory shoulders past him, building himself up- with the girl still in his arms.
Arthur wants to reach out and snag his sleeve, pull him back, because… because maybe he can fight the skeleton, but maybe not. His father is right here. What if his father can do something to Gregory? Arthur hasn’t forgotten the look on his father’s face when he saw the cat.
His father knows something. He called (confirmed) him a demon, didn’t he? Didn’t he? What if… what if he can control them, like… like he can control things like that skeleton?
He is, after all, a necromancer.
Even if Arthur hasn’t managed to find any books with information about what Gregory is in his father’s bookshelf.
But it was one of his father’s books he got the spell from that made it happen.
The roar is really loud now, and a speck in the sky is growing quickly. Out of the corner of his eyes, Arthur can see the people in the crowd pointing up, can hear, but not understand, the sounds of excited shouts underneath the noise.
The driver of the coach is waving to his father and the woman.
Arthur’s father glares at him, then whirls and turns the glare on Arthur, makes an impatient gesture with his arm- he wants Arthur to run over there before Prince James, any moment, arrives.
Arthur is still frozen at the mouth of the alley. He’s so scared spots of colour are dancing in front of his eyes.
Gregory makes a questioning noise.
His father gestures again, and the skeleton crouches and breaks into a run.
“By the order of her Majesty the Queen, you are under arrest. Put your hands up or I will open fire. Civilians, please stand back!” comes a voice from above- Prince James. Arthur’s eyes flick up before he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of the skeleton.
He’s seen Prince James in pictures in the newspaper- he always has a grin there, and his gun resting on his shoulder, over the straps of his rocket pack he uses to fly.
Now he’s not grinning. His hair is dark brown, and his gun looks a lot bigger when it’s pointed at you.
“Cease your magic immediately,” he orders, and that’s when Arthur realizes that the spots are getting denser and more colourful, and that… maybe they aren’t imaginary, maybe other people can see them too?
He doesn’t know what’s happening, is this his father’s doing?
Fear cramps his stomach, and the world tilts, and swirls, and tips out from under his feet.